A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style
by Miss Aranel
Summary: A boat race is scheduled in Mirkwood on the occasion of a visit from Lord Elrond. Regattas don't usually involve white water rapids, toy boats, and pies though, do they? Ch. 6: Small Legolas worries over a pink boat; Galion and Co. paint by number.
1. Plans

**A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes:** Here is something a bit more lighthearted, since my recent writings on little Legolas have not been the happiest. You needn't read my other stories to enjoy this one, though they may help you to get to know the characters better. 

In this story, Legolas is about the Elvish equivalent of six or seven. 

For those reading "Holding His Own", this takes place a summer later. 

Comments and questions are more than welcome, and reviews will be replied to. 

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)

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**Chapter 1~*~Plans**

King Thranduil of Mirkwood was perplexed. 

It was a feeling that he did not particularly enjoy, being more familiar with the ability to come up with swift comebacks and serving solutions without much difficultly. He sat at the head of the table his court had chosen to confer at, staring down at the calendar in front of him. The spaces allowed for a certain three weeks were covered in circles of dark green ink, bold cancellations, and scribbled notes in several different hands, along with a number of indentations caused by the repeatedly jabbing nib of the King's dry quill. 

"There has to be something," Mirkwood's ruler scrutinized the notes before glancing up at the members of his court.

"Everything is already being done," one of the advisors sighed, regretting the statement when his king gave him an obviously irritated look. The Elf drew in a long breath, pointing to several spots on his own hastily sketched copy of the calendar, "The summer festivities run through this entire week here, and if things go as they normally do, they will be extended through, um, the fifteenth. And Lord Elrond plans to arrive, oh, around the nineteeth. I do not think everyone will be ready to feast and dance again so soon." 

Thranduil ran his tongue over his teeth, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Why couldn't Elrond arrive during the summer celebrations? It would make entertaining the Lord of Imladris much simpler. There really was nothing left to do after the festivities:  contests of weapons skills, picnics on the greens, feasting and dancing during the day and at night—everything would be already done by the time Elrond and his family reached the Wood. 

"We should have pies," the king's older son broke the silence in the room. Prince Aldandil sat in his chair, his fingers laced together as he waited for a response. 

"Pies?" Thranduil turned to look at his silver-haired heir, surprised at the proposition, "Why do you suggest pies, Aldandil?"

The young Elf had the grace to blush slightly, explaining himself soon enough, "I was told that they have wonderful pie baking contests in Imladris, and I thought that perhaps Lord Elrond might enjoy an activity from his own realm." Aldandil looked around the table, "And Meril—Lady Meril—makes a delectable peach pie."

"So I've been told," Thranduil commented under his breath, unsurprised to hear his son commenting yet again on the young maiden who has managed to steal his heart—and seemingly, at this moment, much of his sense—away. A plan quickly knit itself in the king's head, however, and he turned his full attention to his heir, "What other activities do they have in Imladris?" He had, of course, been there several times himself, but he did not really remember any of the special events. 

"I'll find out," Aldandil nodded, secretly hoping that his father would approve of pies being worked into the schedule at some point. Meril—Lady Meril—really did make a very good peach pie. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

"…and I can remember raising a rabbit as a child. I think we had a rabbit contest that year…"

Legolas listened only partly, most of his attention fixed on the drawings he was making in the dirt. He had approached the Noldo healer for suggestions on what to play, and was now hearing stories of Nimaron's precious bunnies. Didn't they play anything exciting in Imladris? He had been hoping for games involving spies or hunters or…well, anything but bunnies. 

"…and there are boat races!" Nimaron exclaimed, smiling at some happy memory. His time in Mirkwood had been enjoyable for the most part, but there were some things that only Imladris offered, "Every year there is a regatta on the river."

"A regatta?" Legolas looked up at the unfamiliar word. 

"Oh, yes," the healer nodded, "There are boats with rowers—sort of like paddlers, you know, and they have a race. It is quite the event, Legolas. Everyone comes to watch and cheer, and there are picnics and sweets." Nimaron paused a moment, "It would be coming up soon, I think…the water level would be about right." Yes, late summer was about the right time for good boating. 

Legolas nodded, glancing towards the bridge that ran over the Forest River and into his father's palace. Many people—especially the ones Ada called 'reckless'—liked to boat on the river. He and his friends had watched from the high banks occasionally, seeing the Elves paddling through the frothy white water and swerving around large rocks. The small boats would ride fast currents, occasionally getting stuck between rocks or bouncing through large rapids. It was exciting to watch just one boat, but to just imagine several boats racing through such a thing! He stared up at the dark-haired Noldo, "Did you ever race?"

"Oh, yes," Nimaron nodded, memories of long boats being rowed by several Elves drifting through his head. The stretches of the Bruinen used for the races were wide and fairly calm, though the competition could be playfully fierce. He nearly laughed aloud, remembering a finish race and the purposely overturned boat of the winners, "I enjoyed it." 

"Did you get wet?" Legolas asked, grinning. He had never seen Nimaron sopping wet, though he imagined it would be amusing. He could picture the healer's complex braids dripping around his face, his long robes heavy and darkened.  

Nimaron shook his head at the simple question, "Not usually. Sometimes water would leak into the boats, and then our feet would get wet, or we would get a little splashed. But no, I did not get very wet." 

A new sort of admiration for the Noldo glimmered in Legolas' eyes as he pictured the healer in a boat, bouncing over wild, rushing water.  Nimaron had to be awfully good at boating if he didn't even get wet. Maybe he just paddled extra-fast. He would zoom through the water like a flash of lightning, the prow of his boat slicing straight through any torrent that dared to get in his way. 

That would be something to see. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil sat in the small dining hall, not really enjoying the meal he shared with his wife and two sons as much as he would have preferred. The problem of entertaining Elrond and his family was still eating away at his mind, which made eating the food placed before him rather difficult. 

"You will think of something," the king's wife assured him, smiling as she placed a hand on his arm, "Besides, Elrond and Celebrían are not going to expect anything. The last time they came we did not do anything special."  

"The last time they visited they arrived as a complete surprise," Thranduil responded, picking up his knife in order to slice through a cut of venison, "I would like to have something happening here."

Legolas hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of vegetables, piping up from his place near his parents, "I know! We can race boats!" He looked at his mother and father's interested looks, then continued, "Nim said they race boats in Imladris this time of year."

"There!" Aldandil nodded happily, "It's perfect! It's something from Lord Elrond's own realm, and I'm sure everyone would love it. And we aren't already doing it during the summer festivities." 

Queen Thilómë grinned, liking the idea, "Just think, Thranduil. There are enough experienced boaters, and the course could run under the bridge so that everyone could watch. The water is smoother there, and it would make for a lovely view." 

"And there could be prizes!" Legolas put in, getting excited by the fact that his suggestion had been so readily expanded upon, "And something for Elflings! Ada, do you think we could race too?"

"No," Thranduil managed to get out the single word as his mind processed the eager suggestions of his family. The idea of small Elflings tumbling over rapids did not paint a very nice picture. 

"They could race little boats though, Adar," Aldandil glanced at his younger brother, a plan emerging in his head, "Just simple toy ones. The children could drop them into the water after the race was over, and we could catch them…with a…a net, yes! A big net, by the bridge, where the water slows down. The children could mark them so that we could identify the winners." 

Thranduil noted a vigorous nodding from Legolas, accompanied by a genuine look of interest from his wife. He turned his attention to his older son, tapping his knife against the side of his plate, "Do you propose anything else?"

"Well, there would have to be something to eat, of course…" Aldandil mused, and a grin soon flickered over his face, "Adar, I think we could still have a pie contest. Perhaps the winners of the boat race could judge." Thoughts of Meril's peach pie, its flaky pastry filled with spiced fruit and topped with melting dollops of whipped cream filled his head, and he had to stop himself from licking at his lips. Slices of Meril's pie usually left traces of cream on them, traces best removed by the baker herself. 

"Oh, that would be good!" Legolas reached for his glass of milk, "Big boats and little boats and pies, Ada. Maybe Lord Elrond would like that." 

Thranduil smiled at his younger son, again tapping his knife against the side of his plate in contemplation. Indeed, maybe Lord Elrond would like that. 


	2. Paddlers and Boats

**A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.**

**~*~~*~~*~**

Chapter 2~*~Paddlers and Boats 

Aldandil flipped through the papers he held, a pleased smile gracing his face. On top of the stack was the set agenda for the boat races, spanning a full three days. Under this were sheets filled with the names of participants. The turnout had been better than expected, and the young Elf perused the lists, grinning at a few of the unlikely teams that had been formed. 

 "Those aren't letters, are they?" an incredulous voice asked, and Aldandil looked up to see a widely grinning Meril coming his way. The light-haired young maiden slid an arm through one of his own, peering at the heading scrawled across one paper, "Oh, good. I was rather worried that you were going to spend the next few days in that summerhouse pouring over them." She took the sheets handed to her, shuffling through them, "Haven't you signed up, Aldan? I don't see your name."

"I still have to ask Nimaron if he'll race with me. Legolas said he is a very good boater," Aldandil took the papers back, slapping them against a leg as he continued to walk across the bridge, "And then I need to find one more person, as we need someone to paddle on the right, someone on the left, and someone to steer through the rapids."

Meril laughed then, leaning closer to Aldandil as they walked and looking up at him with a glint in her grey eyes, "Why, Aldan, I can race with you!" 

~*~

Legolas sat on the bench, anxiously peering around the large room. His friends' voices echoed off the far walls since there were not many people in the spacious dining hall at the moment. The long tables had been covered in threadbare old sheets, and he could see Master Rossion and another training instructor placing pots of paint and brushes on the empty tables at the other side of the room. It was not very often that group training was cancelled in favor of activities like this, but the recent summer festivities had upset the routine, and since there was nothing planned for the children this evening a morning of fun had seemed appropriate. 

The Elfling picked up the small wooden boat in front of himself, turning it in his hands. The wood was finally smooth after several rubbings with sandpaper, and he knew how he wanted it to look when it was finished. 

"What does yours look like?" Arasil leaned across the table, pushing his own boat forward for Legolas to see. The dark-haired Elfling turned the other child's craft in his hands, then passed it back, "They are quite a lot the same."

"They won't be after they're painted," the blond Elfling on Legolas' left spoke up, his own boat protectively held in one hand. Cúran looked at the other children, "I'm going to make mine blue."

"Mine will be green, and I think I want a yellow stripe here," Legolas ran a finger along the side of his boat, "Or maybe white. I don't know yet."

Arasil leaned further forward on the table in an effort to speak with his friends, "I'm painting mine red. Bright red. And I'm going to call it the Dragon." He stopped talking as another group of children were led in and to a table, each carrying a small wooden boat. Anyone not old enough to race in real boats was allowed to enter a toy one, and soon enough the room was filled with young Elves. There were toddlers barely old enough to lift a spoon balanced on their parents' knees, boys nearly old enough to go on hunts, and little girls with their hair carefully tied back. 

"I will call mine the Green Leaf," Legolas pronounced, looking at Arasil and Cúran for approval, "It's going to be green, and leaves float on top of the water." 

"You can't name a boat after a person, especially not yourself," Arasil sighed, twirling a brush around in his fingers. 

Cúran nodded fiercely, "Yes he can. My ada named our boat my nana. I'm going to call mine the Crescent. You could call yours the Deer." 

"I'm not calling it that," Arasil gave Cúran a grin. Nobody would call a boat the Deer. He tossed his boat into the air, catching it in his hands, "I'm going to call it the Dragon, because it will fly right over the water. And because it will be red." 

~*~

Aldandil stopped abruptly, meeting Meril's sparkling eyes. Several maidens had signed up to participate in the boat races, but he was not sure of what he thought about Meril entering. The rapids were especially swift and turbulent in some places, and he certainly did not want her getting thrown or dumped out of a boat. He wasn't even sure if he wanted her splashed. He had pictured her sitting with her parents on the bridge, watching for his boat and waving as he rowed under it. Afterwards there would be celebrating on the banks, and he had already imagined her teasing him over his wet hair and rubbing hard at his head with a towel. 

But then, the idea of racing with Meril was rather pleasing. It would mean spending a good three or four hours with her on the river, and during the slower stretches they would be able to talk. He regarded her beaming face for a moment, truly wondering for a split second what she might look like drenched. Maybe he would not like her splashed, but a dripping wet Meril might not be so very bad. 

"You really would like to?" he asked, smiling and deciding to tease her, "And you think you can keep up with Nim and me?" 

"Of course I can!" Meril nearly laughed, then quieted. She leaned again to rest her head on his shoulder, already looking forward to the day on the river. There would be good talk with him and Nimaron, and the exhilaration of bouncing through rapids and paddling through swift water would be doubled if enjoying it with Aldandil. She stole a glance at his pleased face, a suppressed smile spreading over her lips as she imagined his silver hair hanging around it in dripping strands. "I think we shall have a very nice time together. Let's go talk to Nimaron now."

~*~

"No red?" Arasil looked up at Eirien, then glanced around the room. After searching for an untaken pot of the color himself, he had finally asked the lady if there was any available. 

"I'm afraid not," Eirien shook her head, searching through the box of paint jars on the table. She lifted a pot for the child's approval, "We have got this though. It's almost red."

Arasil took the pot into his own hands, staring into the liquid inside. There was a lot of it in there, and it was not hard to tell why. The color was not exactly appealing; it was just the right mix of red and orange to be rather distasteful. 

"It looks sort of pink," Legolas commented, kneeling on the bench to better see Arasil's work. 

"No it doesn't," Arasil responded tartly, brushing the paint over the surface of his boat. The boat looked better without that horrible color. Why couldn't it be red? All morning he had made plans for his perfect boat, able to picture the bright, gleaming red on the surface of the water, bits of white and gold catching the sun. The Elfling sullenly swirled his brush around in the paint again, looking at Cúran and Legolas' boats nearby. The Green Leaf looked splendid, and the Crescent was coming along nicely. 

Gooey paint dripped off Arasil's brush and onto the faded sheet on the table. It wasn't fair that their boats should turn out so wonderful, or that they should get to name them after themselves. The dark-haired Elfling smoothed paint over the surface of his own boat, rather sorry that he had ever started covering it in the color. 

He would have to call it the Deer. The Very Ugly Orange-Red-Pink Deer. 

~*~

Nimaron looked at the two faces that stared at his own, surprised at the expectancy in the two sets of eyes. He pushed a jar of healing paste onto the shelf behind him, putting down the sheet of paper he was taking inventory on, "Why do you want me to race with you?" Surely Aldandil and Meril had young friends of their own they would rather race with. 

"Legolas said that you were a very good boater," Aldandil pointed out, and then added, in case the healer thought it silly of him to base his selection on the testimony of an Elfling, "And you are our friend, Nim. We thought you might like it."

"All right," Nimaron nodded, pleased that they would ask him because they considered him a friend. Their faces lit up considerably, and he headed towards the door with them, "I was surprised when your father announced the races, Aldandil. There are really stretches of the Forest River suitable for them? And you have got a good boat?" 

Aldandil nodded, "Of course. We've mapped out the perfect course on the river; there are some lovely views along the way. You can come and see the boat later this afternoon; Rhosalch agreed to set it out in one of the large rooms near the armory so that we could make sure it is fit for the races." 

Nimaron smiled to himself as the young couple left the room, returning to his task. It would be pleasant to boat again, and Aldandil had mentioned that there were nice views along the way. He had really not seen much of the Wood, and he wondered if it would look something like Imladris, or completely different. 

~*~

Thranduil walked into the large dining hall with his wife, surprised at how many children had actually arrived with their little boats. The activities seemed to be over for the most part, and now adults and children were carefully carrying the small crafts to a covered table along one wall. Already the table was nearly full, tiny boats in various colors sitting on top of it. Most were green and white and yellow, the colors often chosen for real boats, but a good number were red or blue, and there was an occasional odd colored one here and there. 

"Ada, look at mine!" Legolas pointed urgently towards the middle of the table when he saw his parents, "Guess which one it is." 

Thranduil looked from his paint splattered child to the table, wondering which of the many little boats his son's was. The paint on his Elfling was a forest-y green and there was a good deal of white and gold on his fingers. The king turned back to the table, effectively finding and pointing at the toy boat painted in colors that matched, "Is it that one?"

"Yes!" Legolas exclaimed, nodding. How Ada had managed to guess in only one try was beyond him. He pointed to the little boats next to his own, "That blue one is Cúran's, and the orange is Arasil's." 

"They are all very nice," Thranduil glanced to the two Elflings standing with Legolas near the table, noting the truly pleased look that came over Cúran's face at the comment and the sullen way Arasil continued to stare at the little boats. It was unusual for the child to look so gloomy, especially when something fun was happening. "Is something the matter, Arasil?"

"No," Arasil looked at King Thranduil, not wanting to contradict Legolas' father even with the truth, with the fact that his own boat was not 'very nice' at all. 

"His boat is that bad color, Ada," Legolas whispered carefully, pointing again to the bright orange-y toy on the table. 

Cúran patted Arasil's stiff shoulder as the other child tried to shrug him away, "He wanted red, but it was all gone." 

"Silly Elflings," Thranduil ruffled Arasil's dark hair on his way out of the room, smiling, "That color dries a most brilliant shade of red."  

~*~

"What are you doing to it?!"

Nimaron stared at the overturned boat in front of him, watching as Aldandil and Meril spread a sort of sticky black tar over the bottom. It was a beautiful boat, expertly fashioned from several joined pieces of wood and painted over in a deep green edged with silver. Now the entire bottom of it was covered in the drying goop, and the two young Elves were using flattened bits of wood to pile on more. 

"It is to protect it," Aldandil explained, smoothing out a lump of pitch, "It keeps the water from getting in through the bottom, and it will help shield the wood if we go over any rocks." 

"Yes," Meril nodded, looking up at Nimaron with a grin, "It wouldn't be very good if we scratched up the bottom." 

Nimaron watched at the couple continued to tar the surface, beginning to get worried, "Scratch up the bottom? I thought you said that the water we were going to race through was suited well for such a thing." 

"Of course it is," Aldandil paused in his work to glance at the healer, "We chose a stretch with a low bank at the beginning so that we can get the boats in, and then it runs through a few good, fast stretches and some especially nice rapids before slowing down near the bridge. After that it speeds up again and we can turn hard onto another low bank where there is some nice sand." 

"And there are the falls," Meril put in, patting another glob of pitch onto the boat, "I wish they were bigger though, Aldan. Only three feet. That is hardly more than a little bump."

"Aldandil!" Nimaron managed to capture the younger Elf's full attention, "You had me under the impression that this was going to be a regatta!"

"It is a regatta," Aldandil responded, a little confused, "We are racing boats."

"In rapids!" Nimaron exclaimed, "A regatta is on smooth water, with rowers."

Aldandil gave the healer a long look, his brow creased. Rowing boats on smooth water? What kind of race was that supposed to be? He smiled then, picking up the pot of pitch and daubing more onto the boat, "Our race will be much more fun than that, Nim. Just wait and see." 

"I've never boated in water like that!" Nimaron pointed to the small bit of the Forest River that he could see out of the window in the room. The idea of anyone boating in such water for the pure enjoyment of it was unbelievable, and the fact that they were going to race in it was something he would have never imagined on his own. He stared at Aldandil and Meril a moment. King Thranduil was letting his son race on that river? And a young maiden? "You can't race on that!"

"Of course we can," Meril laughed, "Aldan and I have been boating forever and ever."

"You'll love it," Aldandil grinned, patting the healer heartily on the back, "We can practice as soon as this dries. Trust me, as soon as you have gone with us, you will never want to race on those dull stretches again."

Nimaron stared at the pitch-covered boat, visions of people being dumped into frothy water and hitting their heads on jagged rocks drifting quickly into his mind. Rapids, white water, three-foot falls. 

Dull stretches were good. Very, very good. 

~*~~*~~*~

**Responses to Reviewers**

***Dragon-of-the-North: I don't know about you, but I can see Thranduil getting just a tad irritated in any situation where he does not have much control. *g* **

Yes, there is Aldandil romance, though it will not get very mushy-gushy…unless you count pies with soft fillings. I do not think Aldandil has gotten adventurous enough to eat the pie the way his brother ate oatmeal...not yet, anyway. *g*

I will admit to basing parts of Nimaron's character off of myself...*shrugs helplessly*…I'm glad you like him.

LOL! No, the boat races will not be on the enchanted river! That would certainly be something.

***Nilmandra: I am glad to hear that your enjoying Aldandil's relationship with Meril at this stage—it is not quite the typical fiction romance. **

I think everyone is in for several surprises!

***daw the minstrel: Glad you liked Thranduil's observation…it was something fun. I doubt small Legolas would find the lovely stretches of the Bruinen very interesting compared to his own Forest River. *g***

***Starlit Hope: Thank you for reading!**

***Tinnuial: I have had lots of fun boating on rapids, and after watching a real regatta, thought the combination could be fun. I hope you like what's next!**

***kingmaker: Hopefully this will turn out interesting…I have a good feeling that not everything will go according to plan. *g***

***lutris: Well here I am, continuing!  I'm glad you like Aldan's "romantic" thoughts of Meril and her pies, and am happy to hear that you continue to enjoy Nimaron. I've actually started an OC-based fic for him, though it is not exactly a nice one. **


	3. Of Butlers in the Dead of Night

**A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

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**Chapter 3 ~*~ Of Butlers in the Dead of Night**

Everything was going just _perfectly_. King Thranduil slid into bed next to his wife, pressing his shoulders back into the pillows. Plenty of people had signed up to participate in the boat races, extra activities had been meticulously planned and scheduled, the children would have their little boat contest…

The children's boats!

"Thranduil?" Queen Thilómë pushed herself up on her elbows, surprised when her husband bolted out of bed just after lying down. She watched as he hurriedly pushed his arms into the sleeves of a night robe, "Thranduil, dear, is something wrong?"

"I forgot something," the Elvenking hastily tied the robe while shoving his feet into his bedroom slippers. He sprinted towards the door that exited their chambers, calling, "I will return in a moment!"

~*~

Galion would still be up. Galion was always still up at this hour. Thranduil hurried at a pace that was just faster than walking, but not too fast to give the guards in his halls undue concern. He rushed out of his family's private wing, down a short row of steps, through a few snaking hallways, and down a longer, slipping set of stairs that led to his butler's office, which was conveniently situated right next to the king's personal wine cellar. 

"Galion!" Thranduil knocked twice on the door before pushing it open, not surprised to see his butler pouring over a few papers. 

"King Thranduil!" Galion pushed out his chair to stand, but stayed where he was when waved down, "May I be of assistance in something, your majesty?"

"Yes," Thranduil answered, wondering in his tired and hurried state why Galion had to inquire after the obvious, "I need you to take care of something for me."

"Oh! Would you like me to bring up a bottle of the Dorwinion for you and the queen?" Galion began to get up again. The king rarely appeared at this hour of the night, and when he did it was usually to fetch something to share with his lady wife. 

Thranduil let out an irritated sigh, "No." 

"Of course not, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten that you took that extra bottle last time to stash under the bed, so that you wouldn't have to come down here at night again," Galion mused, now wondering why the king had come down to his office. 

"I did?" Thranduil regarded his butler, waiting for an answer. Now reminded, he did recall the event, and that the bottle was probably still under the bed somewhere—nestled in a box with an ugly maroon tapestry given to him by someone entirely too obsessed with owls. He shook his head, remembering that he had come to the butler's office to take care of something, "There is something I want you to do for me."

~*~

Galion made his way to the dining halls, cursing the lack of good light in this part of his king's halls during the late night hours. If this mission was so terribly important to Thranduil, why hadn't he taken care of it himself? It was such a simple, little task. 

The butler let out a long breath. It was a simple, little task, and therefore he really shouldn't mind doing it. He decided against further weighing the situation, trailing his elbow along the wall in the dark until he found the door he was looking for. He shoved it open with his shoulder, careful not to drop the heavy jar in his hands. A lamp in the room had been left to burn, thankfully, and Galion could make out the form of the sheet-shrouded table that he was looking for. He deposited the jar he was carrying onto the table, carefully unscrewing the lid – or attempting to. The metal refused to budge, digging into the butler's hands. 

"Wretched thing," Galion muttered, grabbing the corner of the sheet that covered the table and placing it over the lid before continuing to work at it. Wretched lid, wretched dark room, wretched task…

 "Of all the blasted, dratted things!" Galion exclaimed when the lid finally decided to give – quite liberally, effectively causing him to over judge the force needed to open it, unbalance himself, and trip to the floor – thus dragging the sheet with him and causing the items laid out on the table to go flying in all directions – including the newly opened jar. The butler moved on to other curses, wiping at the paint that had splattered out of the jar and onto his face and hair. 

After letting out an irritated sigh, Galion glanced around. Some of the paint had splattered, but most of it had collected into a large red puddle on the floor. The boats the children had painted earlier in the day had fallen here and there around the room. Cringing, the butler plucked one small boat out of the paint. A moment ago it had been yellow, but now it was partially red. With growing dismay he realized that at least seven or eight of the tiny crafts had gotten splattered. He could already picture the resulting scene in his head: an overly-teary elfling proclaiming his boat absolutely ruined. The imagined child's voice was especially high-pitched and screechy, stinging the butler's ears. 

He was supposed to come and re-paint one wretched little boat! Not a whole fleet!

He needed a drink. 

~*~

"Can we get it now, Ada? Please?" Legolas rushed over to his father's chair, happily excused from the breakfast table. 

Thranduil wiped at his fingers with his napkin, waiting until his son settled down. The elfling had been asking after his boat from the moment he'd woken up – and had probably dreamed about it all through the night. "I think that would be all right," the king got up from the table, taking the child's small hand in his own, "If you also fetch Arasil's and Cúran's, perhaps you may float them in the pond this afternoon." He raised an eyebrow at Legolas, rewarded with enthusiastic agreement from the elfling. 

The two walked out of the small family dining hall and a few doors down to the larger hall where the children had painted their boats the day before. Thranduil held the door open for his son, halting when he looked into the room. 

"What happened in here?" Thranduil stared at the splatters of red paint, the rumpled sheet, and the pots of paint and dirty brushes littering the floor. The children's tiny boats had been arranged into four or five meticulous lines nearby, and in the midst of all of this, Galion lay on his back, his arm over his eyes. Thranduil stood over his butler, "Galion?! What happened?" 

"Maybe he wanted to paint his own boat, Ada," Legolas pulled at his father's robe, anxiously waiting to find out if he would still be allowed to gather up the three little boats belonging to Arasil, Cúran, and himself. 

"Perhaps," Thranduil glanced down at his son, "Why don't you find your boats, and then see if Nimaron or Nana will walk you to Cúran's house so that you may show them to him before training?" 

"Oh, yes!" Legolas rushed over the boats, "Thank you, Ada!" 

Meanwhile, Galion had woken – and panicked. He had meant to clean up the room before going to bed, but…well…things had not ended up that way. He hastily rose from the floor, "Please understand, my lord, that jar…well, the lid would not give, and one thing led to another – I am sure I can think of something to do about the red spot on the floor," he lowered his voice to a whispering hiss when Thranduil gestured to Legolas, who was still happily searching through the toy boats, "Well, several of those tiny boats got splattered, and I thought I had better repaint them…" Galion let out a long, labored sigh, rubbing at his temples, "All those different shades of green, and then I couldn't find any silver…and I never did find that orange-y, pinkish, reddish boat you asked me to repaint. I searched and searched, and King Thranduil – I just _could not_ find it. I am sorry." 

"I found them, Ada!" Legolas scampered over, trying to hold all three little boats in his arms, "Can I go now?"

"You may go now," Thranduil nodded, then called his son back, "Just a moment, Legolas. May I see them once more?" 

Legolas hurried back, handing his own and Cúran's boats to his father, "See, Ada – look how good they turned out. Cúran's has got glitters in the blue paint, and mine turned shiny! And look!" Legolas held Arasil's boat up to Thranduil, waving it about a little, "It turned red, just like you said! He's going to be so happy, Ada." 

Thranduil took the little boat into his own hands, admiring the bright red paint. The golden and white highlights only served to make it more glorious, and he handed it back to Legolas with a smile, "I am sure Arasil will be very happy with it." The king watched as his son scurried out of the room, eager to show off the toys. Then he turned to Galion, who appeared to be waiting for whatever judgment he was going to dish out, "Did you see that little red boat?"

"Yes," Galion sighed. He wanted to find someone else to clean up the mess, and then immediately crawl into his bed for a few hours of undisturbed sleep. "It was a nice boat."

"That was _the_ boat," Thranduil raised his eyebrows, again surveying the damage to his dining hall, "I suppose it did not need to be repainted after all." 

Galion could have screamed. 

**~*~~*~~*~**

**Responses to Reviewers**

Goodness but it's been a long time since I updated this – I'm afraid Nim's been agonizing over testing that boat for a good few months now (…and he continues to). I hope you all are still enjoying this little attempt at humor – and thanks for your reviews so very long ago!

***daw the minstrel:** I'm glad you enjoy seeing the wood elves as adventuresome – for some reason I see them taking much more advantage of what nature already has to offer, instead of trying to change it.

***kingmaker:** Poor Nim – this just isn't his kind of thing. I'm glad you're enjoying the nature of Aldan and Meril's relationship – it's more fun that way.

***Starlit Hope:** Well…if Nim got drenched, Aldan and Meril would be sopping wet as well – but you're right, they'd still be laughing.

***Dragon-of-the-north:** I'm glad to hear you enjoyed Aldan & Meril's relationship, as well as the elflings and their boats. Arasil's predicament led from when we were painting a float bright red – and the hardware store kept giving us cans of reddish orange paint. Finally they dried some for us, and –tada!- it was a perfect red. 

I'm also happy to hear again that you enjoy the friendship between Aldan and Nimaron, and now Meril as well – I'll have to be sure not to let Nim get too upset over the raging, wild river…

***Lutris:** I'm sorry to hear that your "Little Mermaid" turned blue – I was an adoring fan of that show when I was little as well. Ceramics glazes can be strange…

 I like the three foot falls as well – and the rapids with the good-sized, tossing waves. 

***bratprincess:** Nope – they were quite sure Legolas knew what he was talking about. Sillies. 

***Dragon Confused:** Poor Nim – so caught up in his job. He'd have everyone wearing padded helmets if he could. 

And I'm glad you liked Thranduil's line on the paint – even if things were rather more complicated than that. *g*

***farflung:** A BBQ would be much simpler…my kind of thing. The pies had to come in somewhere though – we've got to have pies. 

LOL – You're right – Nim did not learn to stop Legolas from conveying messages! We'll see how he handles this whole wild boat race (hopefully, he'll keep his eyes open at least part of the time…). 

And I'm glad you find Aldan & Meril kind of cute together.


	4. Sailing on the Glorious Forest River!

**A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Chapter 4 ~*~ Sailing on the Glorious ****Forest****River****!**

Legolas held his boat up, admiring the way that the gold paint caught the sunlight as he tilted the little craft from side to side. After drying overnight the paint was set, smooth and shiny. 

"Look how perfect they are," Cúran set his own boat next to Arasil's on the grass. He glanced up at his dark-haired friend, grinning, "The king was right, Arasil. The paint did dry red." 

"They are perfect," Arasil affirmed happily, picking up the Dragon to examine it. It looked brilliant, much better than he ever would have imagined before it dried. The ugly orange paint had turned a bright, almost glittering crimson, highlighted by the same touches of gold and white that Cúran and Legolas had painted onto their boats. He held the small boat in his hands, imagining what it might be like to ride on the Forest River in just such a craft. "We need people in them."

"People?" Legolas glanced from the Green Leaf to Arasil, "You mean like toy people?"

"Arasil, that is such a good idea!" Cúran scooped up his own blue boat into his hands, already excited at the idea, "I'm going to put Eärendil into mine, and this can be Vingilot!" 

"Vingilot is white, not blue, and it has silver sails," Arasil commented, a regretful look on his face, "Yours doesn't have any sail at all." 

The other elfling pressed his lips together, "Then this is the lifeboat." 

~*~~*~~*~

Nimaron walked outside, wanting to take a good look at the Forest River from the banks before attempting to sail on it. Luckily the pitch had taken awhile to dry, and Aldandil and Meril had not been able to force him into the spackled boat during the morning hours. 

"Hello, Nim!" 

An Elfling's excited voice caught the healer's attention, and he turned to see Legolas and his young friends sailing their toy boats in one of the garden ponds. 

"Hello, Legolas," Nimaron turned, smiling mildly and walking over to where the children were playing. Eldor's young Arasil was knee deep in the water, sailing his bright red boat through the air, while Cúran was sitting on the grass tying a long length of yellow knitting yarn to his. 

"Look," Legolas lifted the Green Leaf up to the healer for inspection. 

"This turned out very nice," Nimaron ran a finger over the white stripe Legolas has painted on the side of the boat, "I like the people in the boat."

"This is Aldan, and this is Meril," Legolas pointed to the toy figures, "And this one is you."

"Oh," the healer nodded, a little surprised, "It is nice of you to recognize us that way. The boat that your brother showed me is green too."

Legolas nodded, wading out into the water, "I know. I like green and Aldan likes green too." The elfling suddenly slipped on a rock on the pond bed, dropping his boat before regaining his balance, "Uh-oh. You all fell out." 

Nimaron watched as the child fished around in the water for the wooden people, sincerely hoping that this was not a sign of something to come. 

~*~~*~~*~

"Oh! Watch out, Aldan, there's somebody on the path. I can see their feet."

"Here, hold up the boat a bit more so that I can see. We should have a little window in the prow for when we have to carry this thing around."

"It would leak then, Aldandil. You would have to put in a bit of glass. Careful, now! You nearly made Lady Meril hit her head!"

"I did?" Aldandil stopped short, causing Nimaron and Meril to nearly trip behind him. With their uplifted hands the three carried their overturned boat over their heads, making their way to a sandy landing on the Forest River. 

Meril ducked down to look at Aldandil from her place behind Nimaron, smiling sweetly, "I'm quite all right, Aldan. Just keep walking. If I hit my head today it will be on a rock, not on this boat." Laughter erupted at the comment, though from only two of the three people under the wooden craft. 

 "You know that she's not serious, right Nim?" Aldandil glanced over his shoulder at the healer behind him, catching the Noldo with a furrowed brow. 

"What? Yes, of course I know that she is not serious," Nimaron hastily answered, attempting to dismiss concerns over the fact that he had neglected to bring any emergency bandages with him, and calculations of just how far it was from the innocent looking landing to the bridge. 

~*~~*~~*~

"Look how good they float," Legolas dunked his boat under the water in the pond, grinning when it popped back up to the surface. He pushed it under again, further, feeling a tingle of glee at seeing how wondrously fast it bumped up through the surface of the water once he let it go. 

"_Well_, Legolas," Arasil corrected, "Look how _well_ they float." 

"I can stay 'good' if I want to," Legolas shrugged, stumbling out of the water to retrieve a long stick he had spotted near the little peach tree by the pond. He sat down on the grass using the stick to push his boat around in the water, diverting his attention to trying to lift a large lily pad instead, "I wonder how _good_ they are going to do in the river race."

"_Well_," Arasil stressed the word, grinding his teeth together. If his nana wouldn't let him say 'good', then Legolas shouldn't be able to say 'good' either. 

"I think that our boats will do excellent in the race," Cúran paused in walking around pond, pulling his boat out with the long yellow string he had tied to it. 

"Oh!" Arasil suddenly exclaimed, as though a brilliant idea had suddenly blossomed inside his head. He looked at Legolas and Cúran, gripping his boat tightly, "We should test one on the River. Nobody else is trying their boats yet, and if we do, we'll find out just how fast they'll go."

Legolas drew the Green Leaf over with the long stick, "It would be neat to try one…" He pressed his lips together, wondering. Just how fast would a little boat go? 

"Who's are we going to use?" Arasil looked pointedly at the other children, wiping the Dragon dry with his tunic. If only his nana had made it a bit longer…it was rather difficult to grab up enough cloth to dry the boat , while still wearing the garment. 

There was a long moment of silence as Legolas and Cúran looked at each other, and then back at Arasil. If Arasil was not volunteering his own boat, there must be some sort of catch. 

"We can use mine," Cúran finally said, still holding the Crescent protectively. Legolas breathed a sigh of relief, and Arasil hurried to his feet, "Well, let's go then! We can drop it from the bridge!"

~*~~*~~*~

"Look Nim, there are hardly any rapids here at all," Aldandil started pushing the boat down the sandy landing and into the Forest River. 

Nimaron gazed out over the water, noting the steady current. It appeared to stretch on uninterrupted for quite a ways. Finally he nodded, picking up one of the paddles that Aldandil had discarded on the ground, "I suppose."

"Oh, good," Meril grinned, picking up her own paddle and getting into the boat while Aldandil held it steady, "I think it would be best if I steered, since if I paddled the boat might be unbalanced."

"Ah, yes, you're so much stronger than either of us," Aldandil teased her with grin, jostling the boat slightly. 

Meril gasped in mock horror, pretending to jab him with the end of her paddle, "First you insult me, and now you try to trip me into the river." She sat down on the slat in the back of the boat, laying her paddle across her knees, "I really do want to steer though." 

"I'll take the middle then," Aldandil waited for Nimaron to come and hold the boat, giving the healer an almost apologetic look, "That leaves you with the front."

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas stood on the stone bridge that led out of his father's palace, stretching on his tiptoes to see over the guardrails. Nearby Arasil was bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking impatiently at Cúran. 

"How…how am I going to get it back, Arasil?" Cúran stared down at the dark water, hugging the Crescent to his chest. 

Arasil shrugged, unworried, "It's a good boat. It will float to the landing nearby, and wash up there." 

"Don't you think we could test a piece of wood or something instead?" Legolas asked, noticing that Cúran seemed awfully worried about his boat, "Or maybe a bottle? We have got lots of bottles; Galion has got a whole room of them! We could stick a message inside, and then even if it didn't come back, it might go all the way to Valinor or somewhere!"  

"It's going to come back," Arasil rolled his eyes, patting Cúran's arm, "Let's try it."

"Yes, it's going to come back," Cúran agreed hesitantly, walking over to the guard rail and holding his little blue and white boat out over the water. In half a moment it dropped from his fingers, darting down to be swallowed up by the river with hardly a splash. 

"Where is it?!" he stared down at the river. In the best scenario, he had imagined the little boat bouncing on top of the water, eventually making its way to the shallower banks near his house. The elfling frantically searched for the little boats with his eyes, "It's gone, Arasil!"

Legolas crossed his arms over his chest, "You lied."

"It wouldn't be gone if it were really Eärendil's lifeboat," Arasil huffed. He had really expected it to at least be visible for awhile – long enough to figure out where it would end up, anyway. He wanted to shout at Cúran that it was probably Voronwë's awful, stinking, sinking boat, but that was just mean. "Maybe there's a way to get it back."

"How?" Legolas challenged, peering out into the water again. Once, twice he saw a little hint of blue and white bobbing up. 

Arasil knotted his fingers in his tunic, looking first at Legolas, who seemed awfully mad; and then at Cúran, who was wiping at his eyes and panting in little shuddery breaths. The idea that had seemed so brilliant, so workable despite its flaws, suddenly seemed extremely stupid. "I don't know."

~*~~*~~*~

It really wasn't so bad, the Forest River. Perhaps it was a little faster than the calmer stretches of the Bruinen, but there had been no sign of foamy water, large rocks, or falls yet. Nimaron slowly let himself relax, listening to Aldandil and Meril's stories about boating when they were much younger. 

"What is that sound?" the healer suddenly straightened again, his hands gripping the boat paddle harder, "I know that sound."

"Oh, they're coming!" Meril exclaimed, her eyes bright with anticipation, "I hope they're good ones. These are the good ones, right Aldan?" 

"Good and big," Aldandil smiled at her, then patted Nimaron's shoulder, "But no big rocks sticking out of the water. I chose these rapids especially for you."

"Indeed," Nimaron nodded numbly, "Thank you." 

The river began to move faster, suddenly carrying the boat up and down over heaving, frothy waves. The boat jolted and tipped, jarred and splashed. 

"Dig your paddle deeper, Nim!" 

"We're going to hit something! I just know we're going to hit something! Did you see that rock?! There's a gigantic rock under the water! You said there weren't any rocks!"

"No rocks _above_ the water, Nim!"

"What's that? Do you see that, Aldan?" 

"See what, Meril? Duck!" 

And with that a frothy wave carried the boat up, and then let it crash back down into the water with an excellent _smack_.  

~*~~*~~*~

Sorry for the long wait! School's still been keeping me awfully busy, and I don't expect that will change anytime soon. *g*

**Responses to Reviews**

***daw the minstrel:** Who would want Galion's job? Not me!

***Dragon-of-the-north:** The untidy elvenking indeed! *g* For some reason, I can see Thranduil being very particular about certain things (like his jewel room…), but something of a mess in other, more daily things…I feel sorry for anyone who tries to clean up after him (as I can imagine he'd be quite irritated if they misplaced anything in his organized chaos!).  

And poor Galion indeed…I think he's quite ready for that drink now, especially since that red paint _does not_ want to come off of the floor. 

***kingmaker: **Galion has indeed suffered…and it isn't quite over yet – I think he'll be calculating that an entire bottle of something is quite well-deserved by the end. 

I have a horrible time choosing paint. Perhaps that's why all my walls are still white.  

***Starlit Hope: **Thanks for reading!

***Lutris: **Children seem to go especially screechy when they're upset over little things! I've experienced it first-hand!

And I can most definitely picture that forgotten bottle under the bed…

***farflung: **My parents used to have our living room decorated in owls…we even had an owl lamp! So when I tried to think of something for a tacky tapestry, owls came to mind first. *g*

***Dragon Confused: **Poor Galion indeed…I was in a nasty mood. *g*

***Amlee: **When will the royal family of Mirkwood visit Rivendell? Good question! Perhaps when Legolas is old enough not to ask "Are we there yet?" every seven and half minutes or so…


	5. Bad Attempts at Cliffhangers

**

* * *

A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Chapter 5 - Bad Attempts at Cliffhangers**

He was alive! Nimaron anxiously patted himself all over, realizing with relief that he was still all in one piece – sopping wet, but quite intact. He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Aldandil and Meril were both quite all right. "Well," the healer smiled, letting out a deep breath, "I do not think we will be doing _that_ again!"

"What are you talking about?" Aldandil glanced up, grinning at the other elf, "That was nothing!"

"Nothing…?" Nimaron felt his eyes widen, and he pulled distractedly at the drenched brown tunic that now stuck to him like a bloodthirsty leech.

Meril leaned forward, her hand on Aldandil's arm, which was, surprisingly, still very dry, "Why, Nim, that's what the rapids are always like. Didn't you like it?"

Nimaron gaped helplessly at her, "Like it? Meril, this boat could have been _crushed_! We are lucky to be unharmed."

Aldandil and Meril looked at each other then, both biting at their lips in an effort not to laugh. Aldandil shrugged, "Well, he was in the front of the boat. I'd forgotten how frightening everything can appear from that position. Also, he didn't duck down when we rode that wave – there can be some awful splashing."

It was then that Nimaron realized that while he was quite drenched, both Aldandil and Meril were comparatively dry. The prince had been splattered, and water had splashed into the boat and over his legs, but he was not pulling at dripping garments or hair. Similarly, Meril had been hit with water on one side, but for the most part her hair and clothing were dry.

This was not right.

"When the wave picked us up, it crashed into more water," Aldandil explained patiently, looking carefully at Nimaron, "And water is not going to hurt us, Nim."

Nimaron felt a growl rising in his throat, something that did not often happen, and turned around again in order to grab his paddle, "I know that!"

* * *

"It is a nice color."

"A nice color, but it has to be removed," King Thranduil stared down at the red splashes on the floor of the large dining hall. There was one particularly huge, irregular spot, as well as many small splatters. His wife stood at his side, pressing her fingers together as she glanced around the room.

The queen laced her slim digits together, "We could have one of the banquet tables set over the large spot."

"It is not in the best location," Thranduil pointed out, sighing heavily and making his way to the door before looking back, "You are sure the spots cannot be removed?"

His butler had been standing quietly near one of the tables, sincerely hoping that his king and queen would decide that red spots would look fetching in the dining hall. He drew in a tentative breath, "We tried, but the paint will not come off. We could try again, perhaps with something stronger. Or we could…file it, but then the floor might dip in places…"

Thranduil ground his teeth together, deciding he had much better things to do than worry over a red-splattered floor. If they had to, they would simply have to drag in a very large rug – Ha! That owl tapestry under the bed might even do...if he had to worry over the awful spots any longer, he might be tempted to search out the bottle wrapped in it. "Do what you have to do; just have it done by the time Elrond gets here. We are going to need this hall."

* * *

Not so very far away, three elflings were still standing on the large bridge of the palace, worrying over a small blue and white boat. Cúran had dropped to the ground, crossing his arms over his knees and wiping at the stubborn tears that continued to come despite his best efforts to make them stop. Arasil frantically peered out over the river, hoping that the other child's boat would heave up through the surface of the water, conveniently keeping his face turned away from Legolas, who occasionally peered up to glare at him.

"It's going towards my house!" Arasil suddenly exclaimed, seeing a tiny flash of white in the water. He was not sure if it was really the boat or something else, but it never hurt to wish.

"Well, come on then," Legolas grabbed up his own boat, then nudged Cúran, "We're going to get your boat back. Arasil said he saw it going towards his house. Maybe his ada can get it."

* * *

Cerveth, one of the servants who worked under Galion, scrubbed furiously at the red spots on King Thranduil's floor. He was certainly not accustomed to rubbing vigorously at spots on floors with bristled brushes, being much more used to being put to work folding napkins and laying out silverware, making sure there were no wrinkles on the tablecloths or spots on the wineglasses.

When Galion had instructed him to fetch a bucket of water and a brush, he had been quite appalled. His reaction had simply convinced the butler, who was in an irritable mood, that trying to remove the red spots from the floor was the perfect job for the aghast young servant.

Cerveth put the brush down to inspect his hands for a moment. His fingers were getting awfully sore and red, and they were going rather soggy around his nails, which looked worse than they had when he had been an elfling playing in the dirt. Well, that would make Ninglor happy, at least. It might make her quite happy, actually. Recently she had told him that his hands were far too soft and clean, most unbecoming for a _manly_ elf such as himself. Manly elf. Cerveth snorted, deciding the girl he admired had probably spent far too much time accompanying her brothers on trading trips to Esgaroth.

Ninglor would be proud of him for roughing up his hands though, for doing _real _work. Cerveth grinned a knowing grin to himself, dunking his hands into the bucket again. Oh, but she would be.

* * *

"…so when you are up and down on the waves, you duck down, and then you will not get so wet," Meril explained, using a wooden pitcher she'd brought along to toss water out of the boat, "You can practice when we hit the next set."

"The next set…?" Nimaron dragged his paddle through the water. The wind had picked up a little, and it was rather uncomfortable and chilly sitting in a boat in sopping wet clothes.

Aldandil smiled knowingly, "You liked it."

"Liked it?!" the healer exclaimed, "I have already told you that I think it was dangerous!"

"But you liked it," Aldandil went on in a teasing voice, glancing back a Meril, "It was fun."

"Fun and exhilarating," Meril added, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'exhilarating'. She had thought it a fascinating word when she was an elfling, and it still had an invigorating effect now when said just the right way. "Much more exhilarating than dangerous."

Nimaron ignored a shiver that passed through him when a cloud drifted over the Sun, blocking the warm rays, "It was not _exhilarating_, Meril, it was _terrifying_."

"Fear and excitement are very much the same feeling," Aldandil leaned forward to see the healer's reaction, "Perhaps you got the feelings mixed up, especially since you aren't very used to being excited."

Nimaron turned to stare at the other elf yet again, but then Meril let out a shriek, and Aldandil turned to her instead, "Scared or excited?!"

* * *

Eldor looked at his wife, and then at the three elflings who were sitting on the bench outside his house. Lalwen had been hanging out the laundry when she'd caught sight of the three on the bank of the river, flat on their bellies and apparently waiting for something to grab at with their outstretched little arms. Ai…now she would be ranting about how they never should have built the house so close to the Forest River, how they should have at least built some sort of fence, and how it would only take one patch of slick grass for their precious child to go slipping and sliding – ker-splash! – to a deep and watery doom. He took a long moment to look at his son, who was looked as though he expected some horror worse than drowning. He really did not enjoy these moments.

"What were the three of you doing so close to the river?" Eldor finally spoke, waiting. Legolas looked at Arasil, apparently deciding that he should have to answer his own father's question. Cúran was blubbering something about a boat, obviously upset at getting caught in trouble, and Arasil finally began, "Well, we wanted to test our boats, so we sort of dropped one off the bridge…"

"Sort of dropped one?" Lalwen interrupted, hands on her hips, "You either did, or you did not."

"We did; Cúran did," Arasil amended, noting that his nana had a line of wooden clothespins stuck on her apron. He had painted a face on each one for her, and there was one peg with a very growl-y face and pointy teeth – that one sort of reminded him of his nana when she was angry. "But I wanted him to. I wanted to see how good – how _well_ – the boats would float, for the race. I thought the boat would wash up, so we could get it."

"But it did not," Eldor had crouched down to be eye level with the three elflings, getting sorry nods from Legolas and Arasil, and an increase in sobbing from Cúran.

"It…it was Cúran's boat," Arasil explained, wagering a careful look at the other child.

Eldor drew in a long breath, glancing up at his wife, who had pressed her lips into a thin line. He looked at his son, "And it was your idea to drop it, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Arasil answered quietly, nodding as his fingers tried to dig into the wood of the bench. He knew that his ada was thinking about how he was going to have to tell Cúran's ada and nana about this, and even worse, Legolas' King and Queen parents. Ada was also thinking of a punishment, which would probably include having to stay inside the house and have his boat taken away for a few days, and a long talk about the river.

"I am going to have to tell your parents about this." Yes, that was Ada talking to Cúran and Legolas. His ada continued, looking at him and giving out the punishment he expected, "Arasil, we are going to have a talk after I've walked Legolas and Cúran home. You are not allowed to play for the next few days. You can stay at home and help your nana and I instead. You can start by helping your nana with that laundry."

"Yes, Ada," Arasil slipped from the bench to trudge after his nana, casting a sorry look at Legolas and not even trusting himself to glance at Cúran.

"One more thing, Arasil," Eldor called his son back, truly wishing he didn't have to. Being a parent was an awful thing sometimes, what with loving an elfling and still having to try to raise him the right way. For a second the father paused in his decision, noting his son's already sorry look, but then he sighed, "Give Cúran your boat."

* * *

"Stop! Stop right now!"

Cerveth started, tipping over the bucket and sloshing water and spent bubbles over the floor. He'd been dabbling his sore fingers in the water, just for a moment. He'd never expected to get caught at it! "Sorry! Sorry! I'm scrubbing! I'm scrubbing right now!" He grabbed for the brush, rubbing at the puddles on the floor much more furiously than necessary.

"No, stop it!" Galion hurried into the room, wondering what in the world was wrong with the servant, but honestly not caring all too much. It had been a long night, and then it had been a long day, but now he had a plan. The plan was going to make everything better. It simply had to. "Stop scrubbing. Leave the spots."

"Leave them?" Cerveth looked up in surprise.

"Yes, leave them and clean up this mess," Galion turned to leave, calculations of what was to be done with the floor jumbling in his head, "I am going to need…and…hmm, perhaps…"

Cerveth righted the bucket, letting the brush drop into it with a clatter. No more scrubbing. No more real work. No rough, manly hands. No impressed Ninglor. He scrambled to his feet, darting after the butler, "Galion! Is there something else for me to scrub?"

"Something else to scrub?" Galion looked over his shoulder, "No. You can fetch me a few tablecloths and napkins from the small shelf though, the ones embroidered with red flowers."

"But Galion…Galion I want to scrub!" Cerveth followed the butler out of the room and into the corridor, "Anything! Dishes...pots…stairs…Stairs would be good!"

Galion just looked at the servant for a long moment. Slowly…ever so slowly it had started, but since then the rate had simply exploded: things were moving towards insanity.

* * *

**Responses to Reviews**

**daw the minstrel: **As I wrote, I felt so sorry for Arasil because I knew he'd feel guilty about it, and I knew the punishment had to come.

** farflung: **The peach pie will come eventually! It just wouldn't be right to leave it out. g

My lost childhood item was a stuffed duck I got at the ER. It was that cheap sort of thing made of ugly teal-colored fabric with black marker for eyes…but I was pretty upset when it got "permanently misplaced".

**Starlit Hope: **Your predictions were correct – a very wet Nim indeed.

**kingmaker:** The good/well problem got me all the time when I was a little kid!

Yes, the elflings should have used Legolas' suggestion – but Mr. Master of the Obvious doesn't seem to take a whole lot of self-propelled action. ponders that

**Dragon-of-the-North: **I think Aldandil is really starting to enjoy prodding Nimaron – and as you know, the healer really does need to learn to define himself outside the boundaries of his profession.

"Good/well" is esp. irksome when your family is fairly oblivious to it. I've given up on correcting them. g "Lay/lie" and "its/it's" still get me sometimes though.

**Lutris: **The front is scary, esp. when those waves are coming! I like the middle best. g

FF.net "ate" a few reviews this time – I'm sorry, but I cannot remember what they said in order to reply to them. The comments were very appreciated though!


	6. The Perils of Paint

**A Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Chapter 6 – The Perils of Paint**

Arasil looked down at the small red boat in his hands. The shiny paint sparkled with glimmers of sunlight, and with his thumb he could feel the grooves on one side where his father had carved his name into the wood. Suddenly he extended the little boat to Cúran, keeping his eyes focused on a patch of worn grass near the other elfling's feet, "Here."

Cúran managed to catch the boat as Arasil dropped it into his lap, not hugging it close as he might if it were his very own boat, but only keeping it from falling off of his knees and onto the ground. This was not the Crescent, but the Dragon, and it was red, not blue. Most, it was not his, but Arasil's. His eyes darted from Arasil to Eldor, and back to the boat, "You don't have to give me this."

There was a momentary sparkle in Arasil's eyes, which lifted quickly from the ground, and Legolas leaned to Cúran's ear with a grin, "I will share mine with you."

"Yes, he does," Eldor forced the words out, knowing that if the boat were returned so soon, his son would quickly forget the mistakes that had resulted in him having to give it away. He did not want to discourage Cúran's kindness though, and there was a part of him that was happy to know that his child would eventually get the special possession back, so he drew in a breath, continuing, "I would like for you to at least keep it for him for awhile, until you have something to replace your own, all right?"

After a slow nod from Cúran, the father watched Arasil trail after Lalwen, then nodded his head towards the path, "I suppose I had better get the both of you home."

* * *

"Look!" Meril crowed, triumphantly holding what appeared to be a battered bit of wood above her head, "I knew I saw something earlier!" Her treasure began to drip on her head, and she hastily held it out in front of her with one hand, patting her hair with the other to be sure that no water bugs were now crawling on her head.

Aldandil took it from her, turning it in his hands, "It looks like one of the children's little boats; see, the paint is still so fresh that it's already begun to chip and slough off in places. I'll have to tell Legolas to let keep his out of the water for the most part, at least for a day or two."

"Oh, his has been in the pond already," Nimaron commented, pulling again at his sopping tunic. He glanced at the small boat in Aldandil's hands, "It is a shame that there are only a few bits of paint left – you do not see a name anywhere, do you?"

"No," Aldandil shook his head, handing the boat back to Meril, "What are you going to do with it?"

"I think I'll paint it myself," Meril tucked the small boat under the plank she was sitting on, grinning, "The elflings looked like they were having such fun yesterday, and I'm sure your brother can find someone who would like it when I'm finished with it."

"Lovely idea," Nimaron nodded absently, noticing that Aldandil was again reaching for his paddle, "You said there were more rapids, didn't you?"

* * *

"Galion!"

The king of Mirkwood hurried down the corridor, already in an irritable mood. Finding his butler asleep in a splattered hall was not a good way to start his day, and he only wanted to find Galion quickly in order to give a few specific instructions regarding the dinner for the evening. This had been delayed by the arrival of one of his horse masters, Legolas in tow, accompanied by an explanation that the elfling had been far too close to the river, which had necessitated a talk with his son and the development of a fitting punishment. The news had disturbed his wife, who then had to be assured that their child would not have the opportunity to get so close to such a body of water for quite some time. He had not even bothered to tell his older son not to drip on the carpets when he'd arrived home drenched to the bone – he only wanted to instruct his butler to have the seating arrangements changed so that he could speak to one of his ambassadors – the one with the heart and sense-stealing daughter, to be specific.

"Careful!"

Thranduil was careful indeed, especially after nearly stepping into a pie dish conveniently left right inside the doorway, and sloshing with forest green paint. The dining hall did not look like a dining hall at all – all of the furniture and hangings had been moved out, and on the floor knelt his butler, one of the younger servants, and an elf he recognized as the person who had painted the ceilings in his sons' rooms. The three were crouched over several sheets of paper, and surrounded by dishes and pans of paint.

The entire floor was covered in lines of colored chalk. And…numbers.

"I do not even want to know," the king stared at the mess for a moment, then decided it would be best not to even speculate. With that he turned, striding down the hall and muttering something about holding feasts out-of-doors.

* * *

"…and I really do not want to have to find someone to look after you every single minute. Your Ada and I thought you were old enough to be allowed to play between home and Arasil's house when you like, but now we are not so sure…"

"I know."

"…the banks are very high up, and the water is much deeper than you think…"

"I know."

"…I know I've already told you this, but it does not hurt to repeat again that the river is still a dangerous place for anyone, especially elflings like you…"

"I know, Nana."

Legolas listened to his mother continue, her hand much closer around his fingers as she walked him to supper than it normally was. He knew his mother was worried – nanas tended to worry – but sometimes, he thought, his nana worried too much. It had not been a good idea to drop Cúran's boat from the bridge, or to lie by the bank, but he was well aware of that now. No matter how many times he said "I know" though, Nana continued to talk.

"…we care about you very much, and we do not want anything to happen to you," Nana bent to the ground and hugged him snugly, "I love you."

"I said 'I know', Nana," Legolas replied automatically, then realized what his mother had said and managed to hug her back, "I love you, too."

* * *

_Elves do not huddle with cups of hot tea, especially in summer_, Nimaron thought to himself, doing just that, _Unless they are engaging in self-indulgence._

There had not been one set of rapids, but two, and the first of these had involved enough jolting and bouncing sufficient to give anyone a headache, and then there had been the chore of dragging the boat out of the water and carrying it all the way back to the palace. Finally the healer had walked – no, squished – to his room, apologizing for the wet footprints all the way there.

Healers did not squish. At least, not without good reason.

Nimaron blew the steam from his tea, taking another long sip. It felt so nice to be in dry clothing again, to be sitting in a quiet, perfectly safe room. It did not usually feel this nice – usually it felt simply ordinary, if not mundane and boring.

Now it was noticeably nice, though. So nice, in fact, that perhaps he would not mind getting wet and worried and tired for the sake of it again tomorrow.

* * *

Legolas pushed himself onto his chair, glancing across the table to where Lady Meril had a number of things set out for a project. There were jars of paint in various colors, shiny flecks from shells, bits of colored glass, and a variety of other interesting things. Lady Meril sat in the midst of it with Aldandil, who was pushing colored beads onto a piece of metal wire.

"What are you making?" Legolas knelt on his chair to see better, a list of things that could be made from the supplies quickly forming in his head. He had been hungry a moment ago, but playing with the stash that Lady Meril so rarely set out would be worth skipping a meal.

"A bracelet," Aldandil responded, twisting the first wire around another, "Except that it is being very stubborn."

Legolas picked up the roll on his plate, breaking off a piece to eat, "What about you, Lady Meril?"

Meril smiled to herself, grinning over the way Aldan's younger brother still used her title, even though she was quite familiar with him. "Well," Meril stayed bent over her work, unbothered by Aldandil, who watched over her shoulder, "I found a little boat while we were out on the river, and I thought I'd paint it, since it was in rather bad condition."

"A…a little boat? Like the elflings' boats? For the race?" Legolas watched as Lady Meril swirled her brush around in a pot of pale pink paint, then bit his lip when she swept it back and forth over the wood before her.

"Yes," Meril grinned widely, covering the wood in more pink paint, "I was so surprised! But I've got a wonderful idea on how to decorate it, and I really am enjoying myself! I'd actually wanted to do a boat when you and your friends were working on yours."

"Oh," Legolas nodded, picking up his fork and stabbing absently at some greens on his plate. Lady Meril had found the boat in the river…so it was almost undoubtedly Cúran's…and she was painting it _pink_. He glanced nervously at the paint pot, trying to see if someone had written the color name on it. Perhaps the paint would turn color later, like it had on Arasil's boat. Dribbles of it had dried on the container, and there was no denying that it was going to look positively pink after it set. The elfling bit at his lower lip again, then looked at the lady, "Cúran lost his boat in the river today."

"He did?" Aldandil straightened in his chair, looking at his younger brother, then at Meril, "That one is probably his then, Meril."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Meril crowed, smiling and dunking her brush into the pink paint again, "Tell him that I'll return it as soon as I'm finished with it, Legolas, as I'd so like to see how it looks when I'm done."

Legolas watched with worry as Lady Meril continued to cover the boat in pink paint, "It…it was blue before. Blue and white."

"It will be a bit different when I'm through," Meril grinned again, her wonderful plan seeming even better now, "But I'm sure he'll like it."

"Lady Meril is quite creative, Legolas," Aldandil winked at his brother, smiling, "Cúran will be especially pleased when he sees it."

Legolas only nodded again, quite sure that Cúran would be especially _not_ pleased with a horrendously pink boat.

* * *

Number fourteen, number fourteen…ah, that golden yellow color! Cerveth drew the jar of paint over, swirling his brush in it before drawing it along King Thranduil's floor. It felt almost wonderfully disobedient to be covering the king's dining hall floor in paint, especially after King Thranduil's longsuffering look into the room a few hours earlier. Hopefully the king would like the end result. The young servant leaned back on his heels, glancing around the room. The floor was covered in an intricate pattern of yellows, greens, and – especially – reds, which would all match the tapestries and banners that normally hung on the walls and from the ceiling.

Cerveth glanced to the mastermind of this undertaking, watching as Ondren covered another large section of the floor in green paint. The dark haired Silvan knelt a few yards away, smoothly brushing on a coat of paint the color of thick pine needles. He knew the artist was familiar with painting ceilings, walls, and floors, but he had never known anyone could take a picture and map it out for a large surface within so little time. __

_'There is a system to it,'_ Ondren had explained, making everything sound much simpler than possible, all while drawing on the floor with sticks of colored chalk, _'You measure both the area and the picture, divide it into sections, and enlarge it accordingly. Quite easy, really.'_

Perhaps for someone who had done it hundreds of times before… 

Cerveth was content just carefully filling Ondren's lines with color, imagining how pleased Ninglor would be to find out that he had been one of the few to decorate the king's floor. He could walk her into the room, gesture to the magnificent floor with one (now ever-so-slightly _manly_) hand, and point out the sections he had painted while she stood impressed. No need to tell her that Ondren had found it necessary to number the sections and matching paints for him…

"Cerveth, fetch me another tin of this red," Galion called, not as excited about this project now as he had been before. It was taking an awfully long time, and he predicted another late night ahead of him. "Number one, I think it is."

"Ah, the color that started it all!" Ondren grinned, placing his brushes in a jar of water and getting up from the floor, "I'd best be leaving, I suppose. It has been wonderful working with you both, but my wife will be looking for me..."

Cerveth stood next to a large section of drying green paint, staring towards the door, "I don't think your leaving is a possibility."

Across the room stretched yards of wet paint, beautiful swirls of gold and green on a red background. The door was on one side; the elves, on the other.

"Oh, Valar," Galion slumped against the wall behind him, "We've painted ourselves into a corner."

* * *

**Responses to Reviews**

**daw the minstrel: **Ah, yes – the "boating" is probably quite good for poor Nim. He may even find himself enjoying it eventually.

**kingmaker:** As you've probably figured out, Arasil will eventually get his own boat back, and Cúran…well…he does and doesn't get his.

**Starlit Hope:** (In his current bad mood, sopping Nim glares at the kind reviewer and very nearly throws a pitcher-full of river water at her.)

**Lutris:** Cerveth must be lacking excitement if he's so thrilled with scrubbing things – I'm afraid his imagination gets the best of him. And yes, poor Arasil does seem to get into trouble, though I really think he's well-meaning most of the time.

**farflung:** Poor, poor Galion – it's hardly over yet. After this I'm sure he'll be avoiding paint at all costs. And 'manly' Cerveth had better watch out – those dishpan hands might just give the girl ideas about getting him to do kitchen-duty when he comes over!

Cúran will get his own boat back – though as Meril states, it will be different.

**Dragon-of-the-North:** As you've found out now, Cúran was a bit in between over taking Arasil's boat – he doesn't quite want it, but he doesn't want to challenge Arasil's father either. Poor elfling…it will probably just make him miserable having it at his house. : (

I'm beginning to think poor Galion should hire someone experienced in interior design crisis. ("And the Gollum-owl tapestry…put that in the special guestroom. You know, the one Thranduil reserves for visitors he tries to encourage to leave early…")


End file.
